


Catkan

by Ki_ru



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Wedding Night, Weddings, really it's all very sweet though, two Russians in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: Tachanka and Kapkan get married. Because why wouldn't they?





	Catkan

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the absolutely fantastic [Ojiisan](http://ojiisan01.tumblr.com/) and also because there's not nearly enough smut in this fandom yet ♥

Kapkan is not known for being emotional, quite the opposite – he always found it easy to control them, quell them with logic, guide them instead of allowing them to colour his actions. And yet there are a few points in his life that stand out in vivid clarity in his memories, moments he can recall effortlessly and of which he can conjure up the mixture of emotions raging inside him. So far, three of them are the most striking, cutting into his life and invariably changing it forever. The first was right after Beslan, the instant in which it registered that it was over, the horror, the tragedy, all of it was done and he had survived somehow, watched his colleagues and friends fall yet remained standing, witnessed innocents being slaughtered and now had to pick up the pieces; guilt, relief, repulsion and fear combined and never really left him, strengthened his resolve.

Making it into Spetsnaz is the second one. Like the others, he trained endlessly, steeled his body and mind, became impervious to pain and exhaustion, refused to give up no matter how much he had to endure. There’s only a hint of bitterness in these memories, sympathy for the ones who didn’t get accepted, the rest is all pride, satisfaction, determination. He enjoys thinking back to it, channelling this sensation of accomplishment, of being rewarded for hard work.

The third was when he realised he was doomed.

They’d fought, he can’t even remember about what, he was pissed and genuinely toying with the idea of calling it off, not coming back, returning to being colleagues and leaving it at that when he noticed he couldn’t. He _couldn’t_. There was no other way to put it, if he imagined how it was going to be without him, all he saw was bleakness, cold days and colder nights, a shadow of what he was right now. He was sitting in his car in front of his apartment and had to admit to himself he was hopelessly lost, entirely dependent on this _one_ person to whom he gave the key to his own happiness. Without even thinking about it, he drove back, sank into the welcoming embrace and was eternally grateful that Tachanka _for once_ shut up, didn’t comment on it, let his actions speak for themselves.

The uncertain nature of this particular memory bothered him for a while, left him feeling vulnerable and skittish up until Tachanka showed him unambiguously that he felt the same.

Right now, Kapkan experiences another instant that will stay with him forever, that he’ll be able to recall in all its blinding intensity, encompassing all that his senses deliver to his brain. The most important part is the man in front of him, breathtakingly _real_ and dazzling and it hits Kapkan like a truck that he’s going to spend the rest of his life with him and how did he even get so lucky, how does he deserve this fortune? His heart is beating a fast staccato and merely looking at him is a heady rush that he will hopefully never get used to.

He seals their agreement with a simple: “I do.”

And Tachanka’s smile brightens.

 

The reception is a total and utter mess. The open bar is immediately besieged, Kapkan can barely say a word because there’s always someone speaking a toast – prompting everyone to drink –, one of his cousins slips on the crystal shards of the glasses the grooms shattered and has to be taken to the hospital due to excessive whingeing, the only reason why no fight happens between Tachanka’s relatives and some of the Rainbow operators is because Smoke gets shoved into the wedding cake and everyone is too busy laughing to remember why they were upset in the first place, and during their first dance, he trips over his own feet because he’s so nervous.

Kapkan _loves_ it. He’s giddy with excitement and his cheeks start hurting fiercely after a while since he’s physically unable to stop grinning broadly and every time he looks at Tachanka in his suit his knees go weak. He makes up with some estranged relatives, lets himself be dragged onto the dance floor by a variety of people and tells Finka how fucking happy he is over and over until she snitches to Tachanka who uses the opportunity to kiss him deeply in front of everyone, prompting hoots and wolf whistles from their audience as well as a violent blush and an inopportune boner Kapkan probably fails to conceal (though at least no one comments on it).

Literally everyone drinks too much and some people fall asleep or unconscious in odd positions or their half-eaten meals but it only adds to the hospitable atmosphere and reminds Kapkan of home. The later it gets, the more he clings to Tachanka, seeks physical contact and is rewarded with a sly smirk and a brushing of legs, a broad hand grabbing his and occasional kisses that barely sate his need and only make him crave _more_. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, drags his lover outside with him to a secluded spot, shielded from prying eyes and wrapped in the comforting blanket of darkness. He kisses him breathless, moans into his mouth while his ass is being groped and it’s probably due to the alcohol that he doesn’t notice when or how it happens, only that there’s a slick finger inside him all of a sudden – and when did Tachanka even undo his trousers?

Kapkan is light-headed as it is and grateful for Tachanka's solid weight in front of him that he can hold onto because his legs are threatening to give in at the unexpected sensation of being breached. He bucks his hips and probably rumples Tachanka's suit by clenching his fists in it. Arousal is blurring his vision even more than all the vodka he drank and he takes it for a while without protest, too overwhelmed at the familiar feeling. Then something occurs to him. “Sasha”, he gasps, “we’re – we’re in public, you can’t -”

“Trust me, I can”, Tachanka's rumbling voice answers and ends in a chuckle as he pushes a second finger in, the angle awkward but not impossible. When Kapkan pushes his hips forward once more, his own throbbing erection meets its counterpart, can feel the heat even through several layers of clothing and _by God_ is he looking forward to later, when they’re alone and have access to a bed. The digits scissor slightly, work him open gently and reach deeper inside, pushing the air out of Kapkan’s lungs. He’s never been this turned on before despite the fact neither of them have touched his dick and they’re _still_ in public and he knows they’re not going to fuck right here. “You’re gorgeous, Maxim”, Tachanka tells him and crooks his fingers and Kapkan’s only reply is _holy shit, right there_ and though it’s not very romantic, he hopes it gets the sentiment across.

He’s used to getting pushed around by now, bending to Tachanka's will because he’s learned that it doesn’t matter how much he struggles, the old man gets what he wants in the end. In the beginning, he refused to let Tachanka fuck him, agreed to blow and hand jobs but nothing more, wanted to keep it casual which ended in disaster: Tachanka teased him for so long that Kapkan ended up _begging_ to be taken and then got pounded so thoroughly into his mattress he couldn’t walk for a day. The ‘casual’ part quite obviously didn’t work out as planned either. No, Tachanka is an unstoppable force and the only option Kapkan has is to try and steer him a little.

“Don’t make me come yet”, he whispers and whimpers as a third finger joins the other two, stretching him past the point of coherent thought and making his eyes hood and his hips adjust in not unwelcome discomfort. He grinds down onto them and realises his plea is justified – he _could_ reach his climax like this, Tachanka's clothed cock offers delicious friction for Kapkan’s and the reality of this, the fact that they’re married, that they’re celebrating their wedding right now still blows his mind and makes him sensitive, susceptible to everything Tachanka does to him. “Later, Sasha, please, you can -”

“I’ll take you apart”, Tachanka promises, a low growl into his ear and coupled with the movement deep inside, it renders Kapkan speechless, shuddering, “very slowly. I’ll take my time. How does that sound?”

He just nods mutely, unable to form a sentence or even words at the prospect. And as hot as the whole situation is, when Tachanka tells him those three words that never fail to thaw Kapkan, make him melt, it all turns sweet and affectionate and the kiss they share is intimate and lovely before Tachanka withdraws and leaves Kapkan wanting and empty. He’s drowning in bliss regardless until he realises that Tachanka is already on his way to return to their party and left him with his trousers and underwear halfway down his thighs, his entrance loose and expectant and his dick jutting out proudly, not to mention his dark red cheeks.

Kapkan curses after him and earns a throaty laugh in return.

 

It’s a perceived eternity until almost all of the guests have left and, at last, they’re free to escape themselves, Kapkan extracting himself from a staggeringly inebriated Bandit who keeps telling him that marrying another dude is gay and has Kapkan even considered this, whereas Tachanka helps Fuze carry a completely conked out Glaz to their cab. During the drive, they somehow manage to behave, only keep their fingers interlaced but the way Fuze looks at them judgingly they’re probably both beaming like idiots while they’re joking about the fact that it was _Montagne_ of all people who cried during the ceremony, that someone supposedly caught Smoke and Mute snogging in the toilets and that Valkyrie and Mira swept over the dance floor as if they were possessed.

The anticipation as well as the adrenaline that rush through Kapkan’s body do their part to sober him up enough so his hands don’t even shake while he unlocks their door after they’re finally, _finally_ alone. He wants nothing more than to step inside and shut the rest of the world out but Tachanka stops him with a glint in his eye and says: “Let me carry you.”

“Absolutely not. I’m heavy and I’ve seen how much you chugged. Besides, I’m not a fucking bride, you’re -” The world tips sideways as Tachanka unceremoniously picks him up regardless of his words as usual, a wide grin on his lips that only grows as Kapkan struggles in his grasp. He hits his head on the way in and uses a few choice words that make Tachanka wheeze in amusement but he manages to indeed carry Kapkan over the threshold – though he sets him down almost immediately since his flailing is starting to endanger both of them.

“You’re wrong, by the way”, Tachanka informs him cheekily, “you’re _my_ bride.”

Kapkan opens his mouth to protest yet only manages an unintelligible grunt as Tachanka uses this chance to shove his tongue inside, quite obviously tired of waiting and talking. Despite his usual calm appearance, he’s actually quite impatient even if he rarely shows it – Kapkan has been the recipient of this particular trait of his often enough to know he’ll get swept up in Tachanka's pace whether he wants to or not. Right now, he _really_ wants to.

By the time he’s being pressed against the nearest wall in the hallway – which is only a few seconds later –, he’s rock hard once more and as eager as Tachanka himself. Their breaths mingle and their tongues toy with each other playfully while their hands are busy with opening zips, undoing buttons, exposing more and more heated skin, dancing muscles, pale scars. Even after having seen it countless times, even after all they’ve done, Kapkan still admires Tachanka's build every time he undresses, his broad chest and toned thighs and strong arms. He lets his hands roam freely over his lover’s body and feels Tachanka's smug gaze more than he sees it.

His fingers find Tachanka's thick erection all by themselves, hanging heavily between his legs. They wrap around the silky flesh, cherishing the heat it exudes, and give it a gentle tug, peel back the foreskin. Merely thinking about taking it in wholly makes Kapkan’s crotch tingle pleasantly in anticipation, even more so when he imagines how their honeymoon is going to go, lots of lazy evenings spent entirely in bed after lavish dinners, no worries occupying his mind, nothing more important in his life than the man in front of him and the fact that they’ve declared their feelings to the entire world now.

For a moment, he’s overcome with emotion so when Tachanka asks: “Do I still need to prepare you?”, all Kapkan is picturing is a languid slide of skin over skin and he’s definitely loose enough for _that_ , therefore he shakes his head. He only realises his mistake a second later when Tachanka spins him around and slams him face first into the wall, twists one of his arms onto his back, effectively immobilising him and forcing him to bend at the waist, pushing out his hips right into Tachanka’s that won’t give way, trapping him in the iron hold. He remembers Tachanka's impatience and yes, he should’ve seen this coming.

“You said”, he starts and allows a gasp to escape him at the feeling of Tachanka's sizeable cock sliding between his buttocks, “you said you wanted to go slow.”

“I did, kitten”, Tachanka murmurs against his skin and his breath is hot on Kapkan’s ear, causes his fingers to twitch, “but I don’t think you want me to. I think you want me to fuck you until you scream.” Accompanying his words is a cool drizzle of lube down Kapkan’s crack that gets caught by the tip of Tachanka's dick and generously smeared around – at least he’s doing _that_ much – and the sensation coupled with the images conjured up by the blunt announcement leaves Kapkan irrevocably aroused, breathless and unable to protest. Tachanka isn’t wrong: despite the inherent romance of this day, they’ve had to hold back all this time, bury part of the intensity of their feelings for each other under politeness, and now they demand to be let out. Screaming does sound _extremely_ tempting right now.

“Can we go to the bed?”, he mumbles nonetheless, his face still smushed into the coarse wall, body bent awkwardly, arm starting to hurt from the position Tachanka keeps it in. His thighs start trembling as soon as the lube-covered head positions itself right over his hole, scalding hot and promising a world of bliss, causing his own cock to jump eagerly, already oozing precum.

“Not yet.” Tachanka's voice doesn’t sound as confident as it did a minute ago: he’s obviously not unaffected by Kapkan’s muscled body either. “Put it in yourself. Fuck yourself on my cock for a bit.”

Kapkan groans exasperatedly, arches his back and somehow manages to tilt his hips, slowly allowing the rigid flesh to intrude, stretch him widely, complement him from the inside. With every centimetre, more and more coherent thought is being pushed out of his head, leaving nothing but pulsing lust that thrums in his temples and rushes into his crotch. The slide feels endless and he has to resort to tiny back-and-forth motions to be able to work the large erection into himself in its entirety, reaching deeper with every movement until Tachanka eventually bottoms out, prompting a shuddering breath from Kapkan.

Their position is uncomfortable and so he withdraws to a point where his back and shoulders don’t feel like they’re on fire anymore and tentatively thrusts back onto Tachanka's dick, the motions shallow but extremely satisfying nonetheless since the prominent ridge keeps getting caught on Kapkan’s ring of muscle in a way that has him gasping and writhing. He knows he’s not going fast enough for Tachanka but it’s not like he has a choice, not with his cheek rubbing over the wallpaper and his arm being held in place like this, so he does his best with gentle movements – and then Tachanka sharply pulls his arm higher, pain briefly exploding in his shoulder and he reacts instinctively, compensates for it which means he slams his hips back into Tachanka's in one go, impaling himself fully and _oh God does it feel amazing_. He sees stars for a second, wobbles unsteadily and hears Tachanka growl in pleasure which by itself is an incredible turn-on.

His arm is released and his torso pulled upright so Tachanka can bite at the back of his neck, undoubtedly marking him for everybody to see while he’s still balls deep, his cock throbbing and feeling even bigger than before. Kapkan chokes out a plea and Tachanka's lips on his skin curl into a smile. “Alright”, he concedes benevolently. “Bed.” He doesn’t need to say it twice.

Kapkan carefully extracts himself from Tachanka's bear hug, winces at the loss of contact and the emptiness inside him and stumbles into their bedroom where he crawls onto the pristine sheets he can’t wait to mess up. He doesn’t get far, hands on his hips stop him while he’s on all fours and barely on the mattress and he has _just_ enough time to brace himself before he’s entered once more with a vicious thrust that he can feel in his throat. There’s no stopping him now, Tachanka is getting serious, Kapkan can tell by the vaguely painful grip on his hipbones and has no other choice but to hold on and take it.

It’s not often that Tachanka gets swept away. It happened regularly in the beginning and mellowed out recently yet right now, it feels like one of the days where they sneaked away for no other purpose but this, indulging in their most basic needs like animals, driven by desire and the need for release, comfortable in each other’s presence and therefore acting with abandon. He feels every thrust in his spine, desire putting him on edge, his nerves alight and almost overloaded. The soft sheets around which he clenches his hands barely register amidst the onslaught of sensations that rob him both of his breath and of his vision as his eyes roll back into his head at the unmerciful ministrations.

Tachanka is fierce. His hold is inescapable, his fingertips pressing harsh dents into Kapkan’s skin and he already knows the bruises will be visible tomorrow, purple in colour and he’ll wear them with pride because they mean he’s loved, he’s _owned_ , he’s chosen. The slapping of skin on skin fills the space between them together with their panting and breathless gasps, the occasional involuntary moan when a particular snap of Tachanka's hips sparks blinding pleasure and a sharp tingling between his legs. Kapkan’s cock bounces every time Tachanka drives into him, reaching deep into his guts and creating dizzying friction. In moments like these, Tachanka fucks like a tank: devastating, relentless, unforgiving.

Kapkan’s arms are threatening to give in and so he throws his dignity to the wind, buries his face in the sheets and fights the embarrassment rising in him at this position – ass raised for Tachanka to pound into, he’s basically _presenting_ but there’s no capacity left in him to care, not when it feels this unbelievable, not when he’s getting closer and closer despite the fact that he hasn’t even been _touched_ yet, his dick weeping, neglected and pulsing. The noises Tachanka makes betray how affected he is as well, he must be holding back because he only sounds this blissful when he’s almost on the edge but Kapkan doesn’t lie to himself by thinking it’ll be over anytime soon.

The iron grip tightens even more and he mewls into the mattress at the hurt, attempts to squirm out of it but is pulled back roughly, forced to keep meeting the brutal thrusts that leave his ass and the back of his thighs raw. Just a second later, Tachanka pinches one of his buttocks and merely huffs a strained laugh at his distressed outcry. “Go ahead, kitten”, he groans and chooses that moment to angle down and brush over his prostate, prompting a pitiful, desperate noise to fight its way out of Kapkan’s throat at the sudden spike, leaving him reeling and incapable of complying with Tachanka's request for a moment.

Pain and pleasure melt and combine to form a heady mixture, sweet as honey, clogging his thoughts. He barely remembers to reach down and wrap numb fingers around his dripping cock but immediately knows what to do when vague relief rushes through him at the contact. He pumps himself in time with Tachanka's savage movements, trembling under the force of them, muscles fluttering and relief looming, coming ever closer with each jerk of his hips, with every hit of that one spot deep inside him. His head is swimming and he’s overcome with desire every time Tachanka lets out a moan himself between ragged breaths and then something digs into his side, a metal object that he identifies as Tachanka's _ring_ and as soon as he realises once more that they’re fucking _married_ now, he’s gone.

Time stands still for a heartbeat in which his abs tense and his hole clenches around the thick shaft, he teeters on the edge, holds his breath and then he tips over, comes crashing down. The epicentre is in the middle of his body, sending out violent shocks of stunning pleasure that wrack his body, _ruin_ him; the waves even travel down his limbs, curl his toes, fist his hands, render him breathless and helpless. Tachanka mercilessly fucks him through it, prolongs his overwhelming climax during which he violently spurts come all over the bed while he whimpers and whines, rides it out in small movements. He’s still shuddering when Tachanka orgasms with an almost ecstatic noise, rams deep inside him and paints his insides, holds him close and whispers Kapkan’s name over and over again.

They need a while to come down, Kapkan unwilling to part from his lover just yet and so he follows him with his hips as he withdraws, still feeling light contractions in his lower belly that help him in holding on to the veil of elation that blurs his mind. Tachanka carefully separates himself from Kapkan, soothing the sore areas with gentle, broad palms and pulling him to his feet once he’s ready. Together, they bask in each other’s company, shower and kiss lazily and finally entangle their limbs in bed. It’s been a long day, gratifying though extremely exhausting and Kapkan has to struggle to keep his eyes open. He does so nonetheless because if there’s one thing that he won’t get tired of any time soon, it’s the person by his side.

They talk some more about the wedding, their tongues loose and fatigue catching up to them in the form of idiotic giggling and fond smiles. While Kapkan examines the beautiful shiny band around his finger in the pale, warm light of their bedside lamp, he remarks: “It’s odd. Effectively, nothing changed but it still feels _different_.” He didn’t think it would – his first urge when Tachanka proposed was to laugh incredulously – but now… now he has to admit it _does_ make a difference. It’s a commitment. Now they can be sure they’re both in it for life. “When I introduce you to people, I can call you my husband now”, he adds and the pride he feels at these words tint his cheeks pink.

“I’m not going to change the way I introduce you”, Tachanka rumbles against his back and pulls him even closer in an endearingly possessive gesture. Judging by how affectionate he’s being, he probably shares Kapkan’s sentiment though he wouldn’t admit it outright. Instead, he shows it through his tight embrace, loving kisses to his shoulder, by stroking Kapkan’s torso and thighs.

He’s about to ask what exactly his lover means when he remembers and the tint darkens to a solid crimson as he recalls the scandalised expression on the face of Tachanka's sister. “You’re _not_ going to keep calling me kitten in front of other people”, he complains and earns an amused chuckle.

“Watch me”, Tachanka replies, content, and nuzzles the back of his neck. “Kitten.”


End file.
